


A Sound Paw-posal

by Writing-The-Impractical-Jokers (writingfanfic)



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Terrible dog names abound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-The-Impractical-Jokers
Summary: For the prompt: Can you do one where Joe and reader adopt a dog together? That would be so cute.Literally me vs. my girlfriend except with us it's 'GIANT DOG' 'CAT. CAT. CAT.' Imagine if Joe married Q. Basically that.





	A Sound Paw-posal

“I want that one.”

“Honey, we can’t fit that one in our house.”

“Let’s buy a bigger house.”

You kneel next to the door, and on the other side, the  _enormous_  mastiff slavers joyfully, tail wagging.

“His name is Captain James Tiberius Bark,” Joe reads from the sign next to the door, and your face lights up immediately. “No. No, baby. No.”

“ _James Tiberius Bark_ ,” you whisper, and put your hand up against the glass door. “I have been, and always shall be, your friend.” You hear Joe groan behind you, and you beam widely. “We can re-enact…”

“ _No._ Little dog. Medium dog if you make a really good case for it,” he admonishes you, and you pout. “If that thing in there comes back to our house, his ass is gonna be outta the front door when his head’s in the yard. No way.”

“ _Joe-e-e-e-e_ ,” you whine, and J.T.B. whines as well.

“No.” He holds out his hand, and you wave a sad goodbye to the Tibetan mastiff, who, granted, is sort of enormous.

“You just want another bichon frise,” you say accusatorially. “You are obsessed. You are  _collecting_  an army of them to take over the world.” You get a snort out of him. “You and your army of tiny dogs.”

“An’ you’re my queen, sweetheart. And no, I do not just want another bichon frise.” He see-sawed his hand. “Biscotti and Cannoli will get jealous…” You stop again. “Oh lord. This had better be smaller than that mastiff…”

“Hello…!” you coo, and Joe drops beside you. The dog inside this door is a collie with mismatched eyes.

“He is… gawd, why do this…  _Admiral Pawpoleon Bone-apart_.” You scream quietly, and a lady wearing the shelter’s garish yellow uniform appears and smiles.

“Would you like to stroke him?”

“ _No_.” Joe puts a hand out, and the woman looks startled for a second. “If you let her touch it, we’ve already lost. She’ll take ‘em all home.” You nod firmly, and then look at him. “Oh, okay. But do not tell him you’re adopting him. Not until you’ve chosen one. He’ll get sad.”

“Okay,” you grin, and she opens the door – the dog comes barrelling out, and begins to lick your face enthusiastically.

“He’s bigger than I was thinkin’,” Joe says, a little quiet, and you nod.

“I want a big dog,” you reply, a little sadly, and he sighs.

“Compromise,” he says, and you nod, looking into the Admiral’s eyes.

“He’s deaf in one ear, and does require a lot of hard work. Do you both work?” the woman asks.

“Uh, yeah, but she works from home. We got four dogs, though.”

“The Admiral isn’t great with other dogs,” the woman advises, and you pout. Foiled again. “So you’re looking for medium-sized and good with other dogs? Are you sure you can take care of them all?”

“100%. Don’t worry, we put a lot of time and work into taking care of them.”

“They eat better than us,” you joke – well,  _mostly_  a joke – and the woman smiles.

“Okay, well how about…” She gently puts the Admiral back into his little room, and then leads you down the corridor. “This is Ozzi, the Princess of Barkness. We thought she was a boy when she first came in…!”

The dog that comes shooting out of the door is quite small – she’s got wiry, blue-grey fur that sticks up every which way, and one tooth sticks up over her jaw. She is the stereotype of mongrel-ness, and you are actually in love with her before she even licks your chin inquisitively.

“She’s gorgeous,” Joe coos. “Hey, sweetie.”  _He is in love too_. Ozzi licks his face as well, and then runs around in a circle after her own tail for a moment.

“She also has a disability, just so you’re aware. Her hind legs sometimes stop working; it’s a form of seizure. She just falls over…” Ozzi crumples, her tail still, but her panting and cocked ears tell you she’s full of joy. “She’s fine, but we did have an incident where she fell off of a bench and had to have some stitches.”

“She’s adorable.”

“If you’re out on a walk, she may need to be carried; however, the vets have said nothing can really be done, and it doesn’t affect her in any other way.” Ozzi shuffles up to you, legs splayed out. “She can be a little incontinent as well…”

You pick her up. You literally don’t care. This is your baby. Joe smiles, and pats your shoulder.

“Okay, so, I’m sure you know the next step is to fill out an adoption form…”

Ozzi snuggles into your arms, and you stroke her fur softly as the woman explains to Joe what he’s heard a thousand times over. She’s gorgeous. She must have other people who want to adopt her too… you hope so, but you hope not as well. She laps at your hand, gently, and her leg twitches.

“Good baby,” you murmur. “Good little Ozzi.”

“She’s been here a while, poor thing. She came here from a kill-shelter, luckily, or she’d have been gone…” That cements it. If they’ll just let you sleep in that little room with her, you can take her home tomorrow…

* * *

 

“I can’t believe it,” Joe sighs, and you look up at him as Ozzi licks your face repeatedly. “I mean, I can believe you’d sit in the back to play with her until we got home…”

It’s been a week, and you are driving home from the shelter – there was a heart-stopping moment where they had delayed the application because of the other dogs, but here you are, and she’s cradled in your arms, licking your face. It feels utterly disgusting, but you do not care a jot.

“I think five is enough for dogs,” he laughs, and you roll your eyes.

“What next, cats?”

“Kids,” he grins, and your heart flips a little. You look down at Ozzi, and see her, for a moment, as not just a dog who needed a home, but a symbol of how far you and Joe have come, and where you can go next. You park up on the drive, and he smiles at you. “But let’s get this one settled in first, alright?”


End file.
